


Morning Routine

by Jeminy3



Category: The LEGO Movie (2014)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 07:43:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1810660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeminy3/pseuds/Jeminy3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bad Cop/Good Cop going through their usual morning routine, post-movie. SFW. 1,395 words. Very brief mentions of scarring/torture/etc.</p><p>First fanfic ever. Not very good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning Routine

An alarm blared out and a warm, familiar voice filled the inside of his head.

(Hey! Wake up! It's morning, time to wake up!)

His eyes fluttered open and stared out blearily across the surface of the bed and the nightstand beyond it. He briefly wondered where he was and what was happening.

(Wake up! Wake up! It's a lovely new day! C'mon, wake up!)

Ah. Now he remembered. With all the grace of a beached walrus, Bad Cop haphazardly propped up his upper body by his elbow and fumbled with the alarm clock until he clicked the darned noise off, the cheery voice in his head filling him with encouragement the whole time.

He then gently raised himself to a sitting position, his legs hanging off the edge of the bed, his head feeling like it was filled with bricks. His eyes felt worse. He sat there, attempting to bask in the quiet of the morning even with the cheery voice in his head becoming increasingly impatient with him.

(Oh, you're so slow! We're going to be late! Here, I'll take over.)

Suddenly he felt his mind pushed aside as easily as a stack of finished paperwork, and felt his body stand up and walk around the bedroom of its own accord. He could still see through his eyes and feel through his skin, but now his other half was in control, better known as Good Cop.

( **I was GOING to get up, if you gave me a second...** ) his thoughts grumbled.

(Of course you were,) GC replied, with just the slightest hint of sarcasm, curling their mouth into a knowing smile.

Time to go through their normal morning routine. First, open the windows - the bright morning sunlight flooded their bedroom, causing GC to squint their eyes and BC to groan internally from the discomfort.

(Good grief B, you sound like you're still half-asleep!)

( **I am.** ) BC muttered, thankful that at least he wasn't the one moving their body around.

(Well, you'd better wake up soon! It's a beautiful morning!) GC hovered at the window for a few moments to take in the view of their apartment complex, then turned away to continue with their routine.

Second was morning stretches. Nothing too fancy, just the usual toe-touching and torso-twisting to get their blood flowing and warm up their muscles for a long day of often physically taxing work. A few minutes of cracking joints and pained grunts later and GC had worked out most of the stiffness from the day before.

( **Ugh.  Didn't think those snot-nosed kids could run so fast. Least we got 'em.** )

(Someone sounds awake now!)

( **Hmph.** )

Filled with energy and feeling even more cheery, GC practically bounced out of the bedroom.

Next was to head into the bathroom to use the toilet and wash their hands and face. The toilet business went on without incident but after the washing, GC lingered at the mirror a few moments longer, touching at the light scars around their mouth and eyes. He fell unusually quiet. Both of them were briefly brought back to a time marked by terrible pain and separation.

( **...They're healing nicely.** ) BC chimed in, trying his best to break the tension and sound comforting.

(Yeah...)

( **Soon they'll be gone completely.** )

(That'll be nice.)

GC smiled at his reflection, plucking himself up, then squeezed out a bit of lotion from a nearby bottle, applying it to the scars. That plus a bit of flesh-colored face powder, and he looked good as new.

He smiled again, then headed back to the bedroom for a change of clothes.

Looking through their closet, one would think it belonged to two very different people - and technically, it did. Bad Cop's half consisted of things like tank tops and leather jackets in plain solid colors like black and white; Good Cop's clothes tended towards loose sweaters and plaid shirts in bright, pastel colors. Their trademark police uniform was nowhere to be seen - that was kept in their personal locker room at headquarters, along with their weapons and other work supplies.

GC quickly changed out of their pajamas and into a simple sweater and jeans outfit, avoiding eye contact with his reflection in their closet's mirror-doors. He felt BC grumble in annoyance as he began pulling the sweater down.

( **Oh, come on. Just a quick look?** )

He paused and gave a little sigh. (Oh, alright.) He pulled the sweater back off.

He admired their muscular upper body for a few moments, BC showing satisfaction, as always, in the fruits of his  tri-weekly workout sessions. The only thing that drew his ire was their not-very-distinct abdominal muscles, which were partially masked by a thin layer of stubborn belly fat he could never completely burn off. He always blamed it on GC's fondness for pastries, even though he himself had a bit of a sweet tooth he sometimes indulged in, especially in times of high stress.

After a bit of internal banter over the subject,  GC quickly pulled the sweater back over their body, hiding it almost completely. It wasn't that their physique looked particularly _bad_ to him- quite the opposite, in fact - but GC felt ever so slightly uncomfortable seeing himself in it. He always imagined himself a bit smaller, a bit less intimidating. But alas, it couldn't be helped, and it didn't bother him _that_ much.

He moved to the dresser to groom himself, combing his hair, then put on his glasses. They were custom-made, with a pair of reflective aviator lenses hinged to the top. He didn't need them to see, however - they were purely for indicating which half of him was currently speaking. And to look cool. GC flipped the aviator lenses up, then headed out into the kitchen.

He grabbed an empty glass and filled it with cold water from a large spigoted container in the fridge. He sipped at it, relieving their slightly parched throat as they moved toward their apartment's front window. Opening it and leaning out, they took in a deep breath of the cool morning air. Pale orange sunlight chased away the last bits of greyness in the sky, and the distant sounds of voices and car horns told the tale of a city slowly waking up. Things felt a bit more relaxed nowadays. For once, Bad Cop and his other self could enjoy their alone time before the rush and tumble of work without guilt. But then, even work was less hectic now.

They lingered at the windowsill for a few more moments, taking in the sights and sounds of the city as they continued their silent conversations.

( **It's so nice, now.** ) BC mused.

(Sure is!)

( **Everything is. But...** )

(But what?)

BC sighed, as best as his thoughts could do such a thing. ( **I wish I could just relax and really enjoy it, for once.** )

GC could sense his psyche near his own, tense and weighed down with past memories and the guilt now associated with them. He reached out and gave him the best mental hug he could muster.

(You're doing fine, B. It's okay. The past's in the past.)

BC didn't respond clearly, but from the relief and mild embarrassment he was giving off, he felt he'd done enough to comfort him. Now onto other matters.

(So... what about breakfast?)

( **Er... what about it?** )

(You feel like making anything today?)

( **Well...not really.** )

(Alright, we'll stop by the usual place then!) GC hardly bothered to mask his enthusiasm. Breakfast WAS his favorite time of the day. So was lunch. and dinner.

They moved away from the window, noting the time. Almost an hour and a half before work. He felt GC retreat slightly, inviting him to take over.

( **...Thanks.** )

 With BC at the helm, they returned to their bedroom to grab what they would need for the work day ahead. He headed for the door to the outside, but upon grasping the doorknob, he felt a slight twinge of anxiety.

(You okay?)

( **Yeah, I just... hope things go okay.** )

(You worry too much, buddy! I'm sure we'll be fine. The worst is behind us. Things can only get better now.)

He smiled, despite himself, wondering how he even managed to function without his other self for that brief time he was silenced.

He turned the knob and pushed the door open.


End file.
